


Learning to Fly

by ahestele



Category: Figure Skating RPF, Hanson, Johnny Wier, Taylor Hanson - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-29
Updated: 2006-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-31 09:57:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahestele/pseuds/ahestele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes all it takes is someone jumping off with you.  Embers Taylor Hanson/Johnny Wier Pre-slash</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning to Fly

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Embers](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/6925) by Ahestele. 



> Rating: PG-13 for a few curse words  
> Disclaimer: Everything written herewith is categorically a work of fiction.  
> Notes: This is not canonically correct, and probably not fanonically correct, but here it is. As I told reet - this is not ‘the’ way it happened just ‘a’ way it could have happened.  
> Dedication: For the luminous, amazing reet and for estriel. It’s not what you had in mind but here it is just the same.

_Learning to fly  
But I ain’t got wings  
Coming down  
Is the hardest thing_

_Learning to Fly  
Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers_

 

Tay sat by himself in the empty locker room trying to disappear. His shoulders hurt under the heavy pads, he had a blister coming up on his hand from holding the stick, and he was so tired he wanted to crawl somewhere and die. And possibly cry, but he’d already done that. He stared at his lap, longish hair falling forward out of the ponytail sticking to the tears on his face. He wanted to be home, on his bed, reading the next Chronicle of Narnia and pretending he had a wise, huge lion to tell him what to do. 

His gaze picked up a reflection from something and Tay glanced up, attracted to the shine.

A boy’s figure skating outfit hung from a hook, pristine in its plastic cover. A draped cowl neck shirt gathered at the shoulders and evergreen velvet had flowing sleeves that tucked into gold lamé ribbon crisscrossed and form-fitting from elbow to wrist. The black tank overlay had gold piping and the pants were simple black with an almost invisible green velvet stripe down both sides.

Someone walked in and that’s when Tay realized he’d actually gotten up and touched the costume, one of his hands fingering the gold ribbon through the plastic to see if it was soft or not. He turned quickly and hitched his leg on the bench to start untying his skating boot letting the curtain of his hair hide him totally. His heart started tripping along, because the whole team had heard him cry out when the puck whizzed past his nose then seen the tears escape of the corners of his eyes at the laughter. Tay had skated off the ice and stumbled into the locker room and didn’t think he could ever walk out there again. And now he’d been caught fondling a figure skating outfit. Why the universe didn’t just curse him outright Tay didn’t know. 

Suddenly a hand holding a tissue appeared in his line of vision and he slowly stood facing the owner of the small, white fingers and delicate wrist. 

A boy Tay recognized from Jessie’s skating classes stood there in street clothes that looked neat and expensive. A pressed button down shirt tucked into jeans Tay recognized from the Express window with a stylish black jacket hanging loosely around the thin shoulders. He stood very straight, short, hair swept into soft spikes and heart shaped face with its pointy chin held high. He had the longest lashes Tay had ever seen on a boy and clear, bright hazel eyes. 

“I designed it myself.” He said, shaking the tissue at Tay again until Tay reluctantly took it and wiped at his face. 

“You did?” 

“I draw what I want and then get it made for competition. Do you want to feel it? It’s stretch velvet. It doesn’t really breathe but I like how it looks on the ice.” The boy started to lift the plastic cover.

“No.” Tay said then blushed at the cool appraisal he got when the hazel eyes turned back to him. “No, thanks.” He amended quickly.

“Liar.” 

The casual accusation threw Tay. The boy didn’t even seem upset by it; just kind of amused, like he knew more than Tay did. 

“You so want to see it. I saw you touching it when I came in.” 

“I was….not….” Tay stammered and the boy rolled his eyes and tossed his head impatiently.

“Were.” The boy stroked a flowing sleeve like one would pet a cat. 

Before Tay could deny anymore, he kept on talking needing very little participation from Tay, apparently. “I don’t know what you’re even doing in that getup. You suck.” 

Tay’s mouth fell open and a dismayed flash of hurt stabbed through him, because it was one thing to think that in his head, by himself, before he swore to try harder, but it was another to hear it from this perfect stranger he didn’t even know. 

“You don’t know anything about hockey!” 

“And you do?” the boy laughed and that was the last straw. 

Tay gave him his back and yanked viciously on his skate to pull it off and went to work on the other one, hitching his leg up on the bench. 

The thing was he did. He could recite rules and plays and the history of the damn game. He just couldn’t play it for shit, but he was going to. He just needed practice, lots of practice, and he just needed…

A hand dropped on his shoulder and Tay froze, his breath coming in small pants like he’d been running. The boy knelt in front of him and Tay looked in the calm hazel framed by the unbelievably long lashes. He’d expected sympathy but there actually wasn’t much of that. But there was loneliness and something like age that looked really out of place in the pretty heart-shaped face. 

“Do you want to see my costumes?” 

The question was unexpectedly gentle and for some reason tears began to prickle at Tay’s eyes again. A kind of soft, deep panic gripped him, as if he stood on the edge of a cliff looking down and the bottom was so far below. Which was stupid because this was just a boy. 

A boy with a face like some kind of angel, body so slim only the costly clothes kept it from being skinny, and pink, pouty lips like on a baby doll. Tay was skinny, too, but not like that. Something about the boy said he couldn’t take a punch, not even playing. He’d probably never wrestled like Tay did with Ike and Zac, messy and sweaty with scratches and a bruise or two, and he’d never, not once, bloodied those graceful pale hands on asphalt while breaking a fall on rollerblades. 

Graceful, pale fingers stole into his palm and pressed and Tay felt the surprise come over his face. 

But the even hazel-eyed stare just held his, calm, cool, and Tay’s startled nerves started to calm, too. Their eyes hadn’t once broken the connection. Tay found himself holding back, squeezing the satiny fingers and a smile broke out on the boy’s face, sudden and brilliant. Tay blinked at the wide, happy warmth that took up his whole face and something in him quickened with pleasure. The boy stood and Tay quit bending over his skating boot and hiding and that’s when Tay noticed they were still connected at the hands. The spell seemed broken when the boy noticed him noticing and their hands left each other, but not before Tay felt one last, reassuring squeeze. 

“I’m Johnny.” 

“Tay.”

“I know.” 

“You know?” 

“I did junior coaching with Jessie this summer.”

“Oh.” 

“Your mom makes awesome caramel squares.” 

“I made them.” 

The boy looked at Tay like he’d sprouted wings. “No. Way!” 

“Yeah,” Tay ducked his head, flushing in a good way this time, “But my mom taught me. It’s easy.” 

“My mom burns water, but our cook makes amazing buñuelos, these Mexican pastries that are SO yummy.”

“You have a cook?”

“And a driver and lots of maids.” The boy, Johnny, said it matter-of-factly, not like he was bragging. 

“Are you rich?” The minute the words came out Tay was mortified. He’d never been this rude! It’s like Johnny’s bluntness was catching. 

“Yes. Well,” Johnny amended, “My mom’s rich. She took all my dad’s money in the divorce because he screwed around with his secretary. But I’m an only child so everything will be mine, eventually.” He shrugged. 

“Oh.” Tay didn’t know what one said to that. His dad’s secretary, Ms. Beasley, had gray hair and wore sweaters that had been bedazzled. “I can’t see your costumes.” 

“Why?” Johnny asked, not put out at all. 

“Because I haven’t asked my dad…”

“So ask him.” 

“He’s not here and my brother’s still practicing.” Tay remembered his sketchily formed plan to be swallowed up by the earth before he went out there again. 

“We’ll call him. All those jocks are busy following that little piece of plastic and watching each other’s asses. They won’t care.” 

“They are not…” Tay’s blush returned for no reason. 

“One teenager in ten is gay. You do the math.” 

Tay stared at him, dumbfounded. Another click went off in his head. Johnny stared back steadily, chin high, eyes calm, thin arms folded and that stance balanced on the balls of his feet like some kind of dancer. 

“Are you going to run away now?” 

Tay stood still for a few seconds. “No,” he said softly.

A shadow of something crossed Johnny’s face, something hungry, almost eager in all that perfection and Tay’s chest tightened with it because he knew, a part of him was sure, that he’d caused that look. Part of him wanted to. Johnny gathered himself then; Tay saw him do it with a blink and a small shake of his head. 

“Good. Then get out of that stupid uniform and let’s go!”

Tay smiled and turned away in his sock feet to pull off the hockey jersey and the bulky shoulder pads, his back sighing with relief when he lifted them off. Red lines had pushed into his skin even with the undershirt and Tay shucked it off with a grimace of distaste, pulling on his ponytail holder to re-secure it and making his hair fall around his shoulders in blond tangles. He turned with his t-shirt in his hands and saw Johnny still standing there mouth a little open as he watched. 

“What?” Tay said, still smiling a little. For some reason he didn’t feel strange changing clothes in front of Johnny any more than he would have in front of Zac or Ike, or any of his other siblings, only it was different. They didn’t look at him like that, as if someone had just beaned them one with a two by four. 

“I like your necklaces.”

“Oh. Thanks,” Tay touched them where they lay just under his collar bones, mostly a jumble of rawhide, silver and lengths of cheap black leather. “I collect them.” He had a few small crosses, silver, black, wooden, a St. Christopher’s medal his grandmother gave him, an arrowhead, a shark’s tooth, and a peace symbol he won at the carnival last year. He had more at home and changed them out. 

Johnny casually walked away as Tay changed into his jeans and trainers and packed up all the bulky gear. The urge to leave it on the bench was strong but not strong enough. The memory of his father and how expensive it was and how he’d explain was stronger, but not by much. He hefted it on his shoulder with a sigh and they walked out. 

Johnny carried the green skating outfit over one shoulder with a finger hooked on the hanger and it trailed behind him like a cape. 

The team was doing drills and he saw Zac whizzing and blocking with the best of them. Zac was a division ahead. Zac had always been a division ahead and Ike had been two. 

Tay barely clung to his age bracket and he had a feeling they did that out of courtesy to his father because his dad would pitch a fit if they tried to knock him back. Oh, they’d had ‘the talk’ about it, if he would feel more comfortable in a lower division. His father hadn’t asked if Tay wanted to be there in the first place and Tay hadn’t volunteered anything.

“Where are we going?” Tay asked as they walked out of the skating rink. 

“We can call your dad from the car.” 

“The car?”

“It has a phone.”

“You have your own car?”

“Like, I’m twelve!” Johnny said with that same toss of his head. “I told you I have a driver. He can talk to your dad if you want.” 

They zipped up jackets and pulled on mittens as they walked towards a big idling car in the parking lot. 

Tay didn’t think this was going to work. But he would at least get to sit in the car with Johnny. Tay’s parents were not going to go for him going off with someone they’d never met that they’d just talked to on the phone. Hearing from some driver who was a guy and not Johnny’s mom or dad wasn’t going to help the situation. 

“How long have you been figure skating?” Tay asked, only the tip of so many questions that all of a sudden bubbled up in his head: Do you choose your music? Does everyone design their costumes? How much practice do you get? 

“Five years.” Johnny answered, tucking his chin in his jacket against the cold wind. 

Five years. But he should know that. Jessie had started about the same time; short, chubby little girl in a pink skating skirt. 

“What’s it like?” Tay asked as they reached the gray car and heard the muted sound of the locks unlocking. 

Johnny paused with one mittened hand on the door, face thoughtful for a second, stare downcast. Then he lifted his eyes to Tay, clear and happy, smile transforming his face into something beautiful. 

“Flying.”

Tay gave him his heart right then. He couldn’t help it. It felt like it already had wings.


End file.
